Gates of Eden: Starter Library

by Theophilus Monroe

  I know you're supposed to respect the flag. I wasn't looking for any controversy. No one gives a crap about state flags, though.

  And Louisiana has an interesting one.

  We had to learn about it in school.

  A pelican in her piety. It was a classic symbol, in fact, that used to be common in Christianity. A mother pelican in a nest, her young feasting from a wound gouged in her own gut. It was based on a legend—who knows if it's true or not—that in times of famine, the pelican mother would sacrifice herself that she might feed her young from her body. For Christians, especially Catholics, it became a symbol of sacrifice, one likened to Jesus' sacrifice. And, since it involved chicks drinking their mother's blood, Catholics embraced it as a symbol of the Eucharist.

  I imagined cannibals and vampires also appreciated the significance of the pious pelican on our state's flag.

  The symbolism was both cool and creepy all at once.

  I snagged the flag with my jaws and ripped it from the pole.

  I forgot the flag also included the image of a ribbon with the state's motto on it: union, justice, and confidence.

  I don't know about union or justice. But I could certainly use the confidence as I flew about as low as I thought I could get away with over the French quarter.

  I was looking for street signs.

  It wasn't the first time I'd been there. Living in Baton Rouge growing up, we made regular day-time trips to New Orleans. Sometimes to shop. Sometimes to see friends or extended family. Often, just for fun. But I hadn't been there enough to know my way around.

  Finally, I saw it—Canal street.

  Now, to find the head shop...

  I saw a place with a Hookah pipe in the window. I figured that had to be it.

  I dove into an alley a block or so away from the store and released my dragon form.

  Tahlia curled her way up my leg, around my waist, and back to my shoulders.

  "So how did that feel?" she asked.

  I smiled. "Incredible, honestly. But I can already feel the dragon's urges resenting the fact that we're human again."

  "Makes sense," Tahlia said. "When I'm like this, I have an urge to become a mermaid again. And vice versa."

  I cocked my head. "How do you ever find peace? Always desiring to be something you aren't at the moment... like a never-ending case of the grass is always greener."

  "I don't think it's that strange. I mean, isn't changing a part of life? There's only one kind of person who doesn't change."

  "What kind of person is that?" I asked.

  "A dead one."

  I chuckled as I wrapped the Louisiana state flag around my body. "Good point. Now, let's hope this Marie Laveau character has a decent wardrobe we can borrow from."

  15

  I WAS USED to going barefoot. Not so used to walking around with nothing but my state's flag covering my lower half. But, all things considered, it didn't look too bad. I mean, from a distance, someone might mistake it for a long skirt.

  I pressed upon the door of the head shop.

  An automatic bell chimed as I walked in.

  A man stood behind the counter. He wore a slightly faded Pink Floyd t-shirt. I'm guessing he was forty, or close to it. He looked like one of those guys who grew up in the nineteen-eighties and never figured out the decade ended. He wore a mullet, gray at his temples, but long, scraggly, and brown down his back.

  He stepped out from behind the counter.

  I bit my lip. Skinny jeans and Birkenstocks? He wasn't just a severe case of business in the front, party in the back. He was also an odd combination of the eighties on top, hipster on the bottom.

  "Excuse me," I said.

  The man stood there and placed his hand over his heart. "I pledge allegiance to the flag..."

  I chuckled. "It's a state flag. No one pledges allegiance to state flags."

  The man shook his head. "I pledge allegiance to any flag if it's wrapped around a hot chick."

  I squinted. "Thanks, I think..." I was used to being flirted with, but this guy was nearly two decades my senior. And not at all my type. Can you say, creeper much?

  "I'm looking for Marie Laveau."

  "I'm Chad."

  "Nice to meet you, Chad. But like I said, I'm looking for a Marie, not a Chad."

  "What's your name and number?" Chad asked.

  I bit my lip. "Name's Joni. And I don't have a number. Tell Marie that Agwe sent me."

  Chad did a double-take. "Did you say... Agwe? As in, god and king of the sea... that Agwe?"

  I shrugged. "I suppose he is."

  "Nice try," Chad said. "But there's no way you've met Agwe. No one has seen him for centuries."

  I took a deep breath. "I promise you..."

  As I was speaking, Tahlia flopped off my shoulder and onto the floor.

  "What the hell is that?" Chad asked.

  "It's Tahlia. She's an eel... and..."

  The next thing I knew, Tahlia had turned herself back into a mermaid. She handed me her eel's pelt.

  "Holy shit... this is like every fantasy I've ever had all wrapped into one. Who told you it's my birthday?"

  Tahlia smiled. With a kick of her tail, she hopped over toward Chad, wrapped her arms around him, and traced her index finger down the side of his face. "Now, do you believe we know Agwe?"

  "Uhhhhhhhh..."

  Chad was speechless. Less because Tahlia was a mermaid and more, I wagered, since a hot female was flirting with him. Granted, Tahlia flirted with everyone when she was in mermaid. She even flirted with me when we first met. But Chad didn't know that.

  Chad released a laugh that reminded me of Butthead from Beavis and Butthead. I fixed my eyes on his face—because out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he was pitching a tent down under. And I was trying my best not to point and laugh. Besides, I wasn't remotely interested in going camping in the southern hemisphere. Not now... and in Chad's case... not ever.

  Tahlia, on the other hand, was shameless. She whispered something in his ear.

  "Yeah... Ummm... let me go tell Marie you're here."

  Chad walked away through a beaded curtain bow-legged and stiff-armed. He was both inconveniently aroused and petrified all at once.

  I laughed. "What did you tell him?"

  Tahlia looked back at me with a devious grin on her face. "I told him to go get Marie, or I'd bite his dick off."

  "You what?" I asked, laughing.

  Tahlia shrugged. "It worked, didn't it? Not like I was serious. On the other hand, I hear man-oysters are something of a delicacy."

  "That's disgusting!" I said, still chuckling through my words.

  Tahlia smiled wide. "It's protein."

  "Lord," I giggled. "It's like you went from turning the poor man on to terrifying him in a manner of seconds."

  Tahlia nodded. "I have a lot more confidence in this form."

  "Obviously," I said. "But you're going to have to shift back."

  Tahlia scratched her head. "Yeah, almost impossible to walk this way. But it served a purpose."

  I tossed Tahlia her eel skin back. She caught it and draped it across her shoulders. She immediately shrank into eel form. I bent over and picked her up.

  Tahlia curled herself around my wrist.

  Chad reappeared, sticking only his head and neck through the beaded curtain. "Follow me."

  Tahlia and I followed Chad into a hallway on the other side of the curtain. The whole place smelled like incense. It was a head shop, after all. But when we got into the hall, the smell there was distinct... sweet, but familiar. And still, at least in the state of Louisiana, illegal.

  It was so strong I was probably getting a second-hand contact high. It felt similar to the one I experienced with the kelp that Tahlia gave me at the mer-club, but it wasn't half as strong. And so far, no hallucinations.

  "Right this way," Chad said as we went down a stairway, then followed him through a corridor and another beaded curtain.

  The room we entered was so full
of smoke I could hardly see.

  "Miss Campbell, dear!" a woman said. She was a beautiful woman. I couldn't put a finger on what combination of ethnicities she might be that gave her such a unique complexion and set of features. She wasn't the sort of person who you could easily mistake for anyone else. She looked young on the surface, but as my eyes met hers, there was a depth there, something I couldn't quite figure out. Was she older than she looked? As the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, perhaps she'd just seen things most people couldn't even imagine. I know I have—and I'm sure, despite my otherwise youthful appearance, there's a weariness in my eyes that betrays something of my arduous history.

  "How do you know my name?" I asked.

  "You are Joni Campbell," Marie said. "Or, perhaps you'd prefer I address you as one queen to the other, as La Sirene."

  I scrunched my brow. "I've only been called that once before..."

  "And recently, I suppose," Marie waved her had to dismiss the thought. "And I suppose you already know who I am, child?"

  "You are Marie Laveau, are you not?"

  Marie nodded. "Then it seems we know each other already, even though this is in a sense the first time we've met... at least like this."

  I bit my lip. "I'm not sure I understand."

  The way she was talking, it sounded like she'd met the future me at some point before. It wouldn't be the first time I encountered someone I'd yet to meet but remembered meeting me before. When I was trapped in the cave where I discovered the dragon—the one whose power I siphoned to escape—I also met an old Fomorian king named Balor. Much older than Conand. He was something of a one-eyed beast, what I'd generally think of as a cyclops. But he said he'd ruled the Fomorian kingdom in another time... and he said that he'd met me, that I was the leader of... holy crap... I'd nearly forgotten what he said. But he'd told me I was one of the Fomorian Wyrmriders... and that in his timeline, we'd met before.

  Then, of course, there was the time when I met the grown-up Merlin, only to find out later that he was my son yet to be born. It was nothing short of a surprise.

  I say that to say this—that this Voodoo Queen had apparently met me before, but in the future, wasn't such an uncommon thing in my experience that I doubted she was telling the truth. But it was still a rare enough thing that it was, at the very least, mildly jarring. The worst part about meeting people who've been in your future is that, for whatever reason, they are in every instance infuriatingly cryptic about the details.

  But this sort of thing was part and parcel of traveling between worlds. The fabric of space and time is pliable. When going from one world to the next, there is no telling when you'll show up in the other world, which means returning can also be tricky unless a static portal connecting one world's space and time to the other's is in place.

  When I became a dragon, in fact, I briefly went back to Camelot. I saw Arthur and his knights. A world from our world's ancient past that belonged to my son's future.

  But that's a story for another time.

  "Dear child, it would be best not to reveal everything I know lest the knowledge of what is yet to come might interfere with what you must do now."

  Like I said, infuriatingly cryptic. Of course, she wouldn't tell me about the future. She'd only hint at it in such a way as to drive me batty.

  "Look, miss, ma'am, or Your Highness... what do you call a Voodoo Queen?"

  "Marie is fine, child." Marie smiled kindly.

  "Fine. Marie... the thing is, the wyrms have escaped the void. But I've spoken to them. I can hear them."

  "Of course you can, child."

  I bit my cheek. "Do you know King Conand?"

  Marie nodded. "I do."

  "He wants to send the merlegion to destroy them. But I've... I know this sounds crazy... I've spoken to my son from the future. A vision of him, anyway. He tells me that we need the wyrms. We need to save them."

  "The creatures are not a threat to you, child. And you will need them to seal the void. If you cannot, there are terrors that might be unleashed from our world that would make an encounter with a wyrm seem like a trip to a petting zoo."

  I nodded. "They are terrifying at first. But when I spoke to them. Well, to one of them. Her name is Nammu. She was scared, not angry."

  Marie bit her lip. "Interesting..."

  "You know of her, too? Agwe said..."

  "I'll simply say this. If you can gain her loyalty, all the rest will follow."

  "Is she some kind of queen?" I asked.

  Marie nodded. "As close to a queen, I suppose, as one of their kind might have. What she is, perhaps, is closer to what you might call an alpha. Or, perhaps more appropriate, a matriarch."

  "That's the thing," I said. "She has a baby... and whoever opened the void took her baby."

  Marie stood up and lit a candle on what appeared to be a make-shift altar of some kind. There was a bottle of rum there, a couple small glasses, a cigar, and a cornucopia of flowers.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "You wish to know who unsealed the void, do you not?"

  I nodded. "Of course."

  "Then we must speak to Papa Legba. He is the one who guards the crossroads."

  "The crossroads?" I asked. "So he's a crossroads demon?"

  Marie laughed. "You've seen too many films, chérie. He's a Loa."

  I rolled my eyes. "Of course he is. Just tell me he isn't at all like Baron Samedi."

  "When you encountered the Baron before," Marie said, "he'd been summoned by a caplata... a woman who practices Voodoo with both hands."

  I winced. It was one thing to hear that Marie knew something of my future. It was a bit more jarring to hear she knew something of my past. "What does that mean? With both hands?"

  "The arts are neither good nor evil. There is a balance in all things, child. And those of us who practice faithfully honor that balance. But for a caplata, who practices with both hands, she believes true balance requires the use of not only the better side of the arts, the kind the seeks harmony with the Loa but the kind that uses their power for the sake of one's self."

  "So a caplata is like the wicked witch of the south?" I asked.

  "We prefer to be called mambos, not witches. But I can appreciate the Wizard of Oz reference. As I said, a caplata or a bokor views balance differently. They believe that light must be balanced with darkness in their own practice."

  "But other mambos, like you, feel differently?" I asked.

  "We believe that there is enough darkness in the world already that it takes all of us drawing on the light, pursuing the noble path, to begin to establish such a balance. What the caplata or bokor tries to realize, alone, we see in the broader scheme of everything. Still, I say all this to indicate that a caplata is not purely evil. She doesn't have a pointy nose or green skin. And they aren't likely to melt if they get wet. Misguided, perhaps. Narrow-minded, for certain. But not evil, child."

  "Got it," I said. "So you're saying that Baron Samedi..."

  "He isn't evil, either, chérie. Death is a part of life. We honor death. I've been there before."

  I narrowed my eyes. "You've died before?"

  "You can find my tomb in the cemetery outside St. Louis' cathedral, a few blocks from here. But my story, and why I stand here in front of you today, is not why you're here. If we wish to discover who might be behind the opening of the void, if anyone should have answers, it will be Papa Legba."

  I bit my lip. It's not every day you meet a zombie-like fortune-teller who happens to be Voodoo royalty. It was hard to imagine anyone having a more eyebrow-raising resume.

  Marie started chanting something in creole. I couldn't make all of it out. She said Legba several times. I picked that up.

  I stared intently at the altar. Was he actually going to appear? My stomach churned in expectation.

  I heard the sound of the beads on the beaded curtain behind us click together. Then, someone right behind me cleared his throat.

  A man stood there, his skin dark
and leathery. He wore overalls, a plaid shirt underneath, and a straw hat.

  A kind smile split his face, flashing several yellowed, crooked teeth.

  "Papa Legba!" Marie exclaimed as she gave him a hug.

  I raised my eyebrow. He certainly wasn't what I was expecting. Not at all like Baron Samedi. I extended my hand.

  "Hello, Papa Legba. My name's Joni."

  Legba looked at Marie intently. "Is she... that Joni?"

  Marie nodded.

  Apparently, another person knew who I was bound to be before I became the person they expected.

  16

  "I STILL DON'T understand how you two seem to know me," I said after going over the whole matter with Legba and, again, with Marie.

  "The Wyrmriders are legendary," Legba said. "And you are their leader."

  I shook my head. "You're talking about the future, I presume."

  "And the past, technically speaking," Marie said.

  "But your personal future, indeed," Legba added.

  "Agwe said we'd need to find the bokor responsible for opening the gateway to the void if we had any chance of closing it."

  Legba nodded. "I do not typically consort with the bokors. But so far as I'm aware, there's only one bokor who has ever managed to open the void."

  "Are you talking about Julie White?" Marie asked.

  "Some know her as Julie Brown," Legba said. "But indeed. If anyone else has opened the void, they learned to do it from her."

  "So this Julie White or Brown, or whatever her name is... all we have to do is go talk to her and convince her to snitch on whoever she gave her secret to."

  Tahlia slithered her way up my arm. "It appears, Madam Laveau, that you know of this matter already. Why bother summoning Legba to inquire of her?"

  I nodded in appreciation of Tahlia's question. I hadn't thought of it, but she had a point.

  Marie and Legba exchanged glances.

  "The problem," Marie explained, "is that Julie Brown died in the hurricane of 1915."

  I squinted. "So whoever did this... whoever called on the void... they did so by seance?"

  "No chérie," Marie said. "Julie's spirit is bound to an infernal relic hidden in Manchac Swamp."